


Absolute Zero

by ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap



Series: Extraordinary: Their Lives As Numbers [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison Hargreeves A+ Parenting, Allison Hargreeves Deserves Better, Angst, But shes still a good bro, F/M, Gen, I'm Sorry, Other, Poor Diego, SHES GOOD, i apologize for this series, poor Allison, we love Allison here sometimes, would you like some salt on your angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:08:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap/pseuds/ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap
Summary: “I-I-I sh-should be d-dead! Am I d-dead? I-I shouldn’t be alive.”That brought a glacier, frozen all around Allison. Freezing her heart with frostbite.Allison Hargreeves had frozen to absolute zero.





	Absolute Zero

Allison Hargreeves always looked forward to the stars. 

 

She waited, everyday, for the glowing balls of gas to make their beautiful appearance over her small family home in Los Angeles. Waited for her four year old daughter to strut into her room (as all four year olds did), and demand helped into her pajamas, with the only big decision if it would be Tiana or Moana tonight. Then, she and Claire would snuggle into Claire’s tiny twin bed, and her daughter would recount her heroic feats from the special Hell she was entrapped in, Preschool. And after, Claire would demand a tale from her youth, of Gods and Monsters.

 

At her home, Allison wasn’t superstar Allison Hargreeves, one of the most influential stars in the world and an ex-superhero. There, at her home, she was just  _ Mom _ , birthgiver to Claire, and she liked that. (She  _ loved  _ that) And, tonight, the routine shouldn't've been different.

 

Claire ran into her room, her daughter’s tinkling laughter sounded like bells in the silence.

 

“Mommy! Mommy!” Allison grinned, it was these times where she felt less like a fuck up and more like a mother. 

 

“Hey sweetheart!” She swung her daughter around in the girl’s room, their laughter joining together in a wonderful harmony. “Mommy, today I want Moana!”

 

“No Tiana tonight?”

 

“No Tiana! Moana!”

 

Allison couldn’t contain a small laugh at her daughters serious expression, as if the world would end if she wore her Tiana pajamas. And maybe it would, because her daughters universe would implode, and her daughter is the most important thing that had ever graced upon existence.

 

(Allison may be a  _ little _ biased, but that didn’t matter because  _ it was  _ **_true_ ** )

 

The routine persisted onwards, with Claire dragging Allison to her bed, and they plopped down on the fluffy mattress. She barely got in “So how was preschool?” before Claire started recounting her feat of that day.

 

“Mommy, today we talked about superheroes!”

 

“Superheroes?”

 

“Yeah! Like Spider-Man, and Superman, and Iron Man and Wonder Woman!”

 

“Ooh, who’s the best hero?”

 

Her daughter's hand flew up to the side of her head, as her eyes pointed up and her mouth was left slightly ajar. After about a minute, Claire finally made up her mind. “Number Three, from the Umbrella Academy!” Claire leaned closer to Allison, and put her hand vertical to her mouth, as if she was sharing a secret. “That’s you, mommy.”

 

“Yes is it!”

 

“And I brought it up at class, and Miss Kendal did that thing like….” Claire took a sharp intake of breath.

 

“You mean a gasp, honey?”

 

“Yeah! She took a gasp, and started whispering to Miss Rachel. And I know I’m not supposed to eavesdrop, but it was an accident mommy, I promise! And she said ‘remember what happened in March 2003?’ That was such a long time ago! 2003! Right mommy?”

 

Allison’s normally rich skin drained of all color, and her face looked as if the wind had fled from her lungs.

 

“M-March 2003?”

 

“Yeah Mommy! I just said that, now after that, Jason-”

 

“Sweetie I think it's time for bed.”

 

“But mommy!” Claire’s voice raised in volume and pitch for the ‘eeee’, “You haven’t even told me a story!”

 

Allison's eyes narrowed, she was trying to stay calm. “I said, time for bed.”

 

“NO!”

 

“Claire, it is time for bed!” Agitation seeped into her voice as she tried to mask her panic. 

 

_ March 2003 _

 

“Mommy! I want a story!”

 

_ March 2003 _

 

“Mommy!”

 

_ March 2003 _

 

“MOMMY!”

 

_ MARCH 2003 _

 

“I WANNA STORY!”

 

_ MARCH 2003 _

 

“MOMMY!”

 

It was like gun were being shot next to her eardrums, voices screaming in her mind.  _ March 2003, March 2003,  _ **_MARCH 2003!_ ** It was that and her daughter, screeching MOMMY! at the top of her lungs. Allison couldn’t breathe, couldn’t  _ think _ .

 

**_MARCH 2003!_ **

 

“MOMMY!”

 

“I heard a rumor!”

The voices silenced. Allison didn’t mean to say it, it slipped out in her panic, her automatic  _ fight  _ response in the presence of danger. Her daughter's eyes glazed over, drool starting to slide out of her open mouth, still in the process of forming half a syllable. Allison couldn’t leave her daughter like this, no matter how much pleasure she felt in finally having the voices  _ silenced _ .

 

“I-I heard a rumor, you were very sleepy and want to go to bed.” Claire's eyes unglazed, as the little girl yawned.

 

“‘M tired mommy.”

 

“I bet you are honey, it’s time for bed.”

 

“‘Night mommy.. I love you.”

 

How Allison despised herself in that moment, she was just standing up and paused. Her daughter still loved her, oblivious to the stolen freedom her mother took a moment ago. 

 

“I-I love you too honey.”

 

She tried to walk out naturally, not quickly bolt out to the nearest bar. But as soon as her daughter’s wooden door clicked closed, she darted towards the kitchen and family room, her wedged boots making an obnoxious click against the pristine hardwoods, but Allison didn’t care.

 

She hightailed to the wine cabinet, and grabbed a random bottle, she wasn’t coherent enough to know which one or care. She dropped down onto her couch, nursing a glass of wine with the bottle within reach. 

 

(She didn’t remember getting out the wine glass, but she didn’t remember a lot of things that day,  _ like how to be a good mother _ )

 

_________________________________

 

That's how Patrick found her, at 2:30 AM, surrounded by at least three wine bottles, several of which were bare of anymore alcohol. Patrick rubbed his eyes, grogginess and exhaustion from his directorial debut made him forget that his wife was missing from their master bed. He padded down to his wife, who was still in her day clothes. 

 

“I’m drunk.”

 

Patrick sighed, feeling the beginning of a headache as his wife broke into giggles. 

 

“And why, might I ask, are you drunk?”

 

Allison continued giggling, taking a swig of her wine glass. 

 

“Remember how my dad fucked up my childhood?”

 

Allison doubled over, her giggles evolving into full blown laughter. 

 

“Well, he’s still fucking with me now, isn’t that hilarious? I’m a grown ass adult with a kid of my own and my dads  _ still  _ fucking with me!” Allison chortled, and Patrick was getting worried she might choke on her wine.

 

“Let's get you upstairs…….”

 

He helped Allison up, and firmly held her shoulders as they began their trek to their bedroom, as Allison babbled along the way. 

 

“March 2003.  _ March two-thousand and fucking three! _ ” Allison cackled, a cynical, bittersweet melody that filled the otherwise empty hallway. 

 

“Claire asked about March 2003, and I told her to go to sleep! I’m not asleep, I’m drunk. Like my brother, but my brothers an addict. He’s not drunk, he’s high.” Allison said all of that with a very knowledgeable look on her face, the one she does taxes in. 

 

Patrick finally reached the door of the master bedroom, and maneuvered him and Allison inside. He set her down. She was still laughing as he rummaged around in their closet for Allison’s sweats. 

 

“Honey, you need to put these on.”

 

Allison’s laughter died back down to the giggles, while she hiccuped and she messily kicked off her heels.

 

“Hey, hey Patrick!”

 

The man sighed, “Yes honey?” Allison’s face split into a secretive smile, as if she was going to whisper Patrick a very important secret.  _ Oh no _ , he thought. 

 

“Did you know, I’m drunk?!”

 

Allison broke into laughter again, as Patrick sighed at the woman he married.

 

“Yeah, I picked up on that.”

 

She was still laughing, loud and rambunctious, as Patrick  _ finally  _ managed to get off her jeans.

 

“Hey man, I don’t wanna have sex with you, I have a husband and his name is Patrick.”

 

Patrick didn’t know if he should be touched or offended by this.

 

The man sighed and started slipping on her sweatpants.

 

“Did you know, I have five brothers?! That’s a lot of brothers, even though one is dead and one is missing! Does that mean I only have three brothers?” Allison looked so puzzled, Patrick almost wanted to laugh. He would’ve if she also didn’t look so pathetic with the smell of alcohol polluting her breath. “Puberty sucked with five brothers. You know, when I started my period Klaus started to scream bloody murder, even though  _ I  _ was the one who was bloody?!” She continued laughing. “Isn’t that funny!?”

 

“Yes honey. Hilarious.”

 

Patrick sighed and started to wrestle his wife out of her magenta bomber jacket and her fitted green tunic.

 

“What… what did I tell you? I have a husband, and his name is Patrick!”

 

He ignored her.

 

“Hey! This is mean, you’re a meanie!”

 

He walked over to their closet and pulled out one of his old T-shirts, and rejoined his wife and unclipped her bra.

 

“Hey! No! Patrick! Patrick! This guy is violating me! PATRICK!”

 

He was beginning to freak out. On one hand, his wife was drunk and didn’t know what she was saying, but on the other hand, it was  _ his wife _ who was drunk and didn’t know what she was saying.

 

“Hey, Hey Ali. Ali, it’s me Patrick, it’s okay.”

 

“Oh hey Patrick, I’m drunk. On  _ wine _ . And there’s this guy who wants have sex with me but I’m married. Isn’t that mean?! And he took off my bra, isn’t he an asshole?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure he’s a real ass.”

 

Allison looked at him seriously, “The biggest of assholes!”

 

Patrick coughed. “Sweetie, wouldn’t you like to go to put on a shirt?”

 

“No!” He stopped at that. There was his wife, who was drunk as fuck, and he was sleep deprived. He couldn’t figure out how to positively fix this situation. 

 

“Patrickkkkkkkkkk! I want ice cream!”

 

Bingo.

 

“If you put on your shirt, I’ll go get you ice cream.” Allison nodded, so he grabbed the shirt he got out and slipped it over her head. 

 

“Ice cream now?”

 

“Yeah, ice cream.” Patrick left to go get ice cream.

 

When he returned, Allison was softly snoozing on their bed. Patrick set down their ice cream, even though in the morning it will inevitably succumb to the California heat, and curled up next to his wife. 

 

“Patrick?”

 

“Yeah, Ali?”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too. Sweet dreams.”

 

Allison Hargreeves, did not, in fact, have sweet dreams. Instead, her sleep was plagued with the memory of March 2003.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

March 2003

 

If there’s one word that Allison would describe her childhood home with, it would be cold. 

 

The mansion was always freezing, an icy refrigerator of pain and abuse. Her Academy blazer couldn’t hold off the frost, so she was left stiff and uncomfortable. 

 

Today, she didn’t want to join the herd that was her siblings, the pack of flowers wilted by the snow. Today, she wanted to stay warm and toasty, under the protective covering that was her comforter. If she got up, into the burning cold, she risked frostbite. All six of them knew about frostbite, even On- _ Luthor _ .

 

She’s been alive thirteen and a half years, and she’s has a name one month, two weeks, three days, and six hours. She was now  _ Allison _ , no longer  _ Three _ . She couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad thing. When she first received her new name, she spent hours just saying it. Sounding out every syllable, Al-li-son, spelling it hundreds of times on a whiteboard, she even wrote it on her  _ arm _ , and was immensely relieved it was still printed in ink the next day. That her conscious didn’t play a trick on her. Even the punishment her father doled out to her was worth it, because now she was Allison Hargreeves. 

 

And Allison Hargreeves did  _ not  _ want to face the freezing phantom that owned the house, not today. (Or any day)

 

The Meal Bell rang, its sound echoing hauntingly around the bare and sober house.  _ I will not leave my warmth _ . She would miss her and Luthor’s morning tradition of meeting outside of their rooms before breakfast, to face the old man together, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered as long as she was warm and not cold. 

 

A minute passed.

 

A minute and a half, this was Allison’s new life. 

 

There was a rapping on her door. 

 

“Allison?” It was Luthor. Another knock. “Allison, are you alright?”

 

_ Yes _ , thought Allison,  _ in my warmth I will never be not alright again. _

 

“Allison, if you don’t answer I’m coming in there.”

 

_ Try to take me from my warmth Luthor, I fucking dare you.  _

 

“One.”

 

_ I dare you. _

 

“Two.”

 

_ You are not strong enough to make me leave.  _

 

“Three!” Her door opened, as a lanky, blonde teenage boy awkwardly stumbled in, his fair cheeks dusted pink at being inside of a girls room. 

 

“Allison, get up.”

 

“No.”

 

“Allison, I said  _ get up _ .”

 

“And I said,  _ no _ .”

 

“It’s time for breakfast.”

 

“I’ll starve.”

 

“ _ Allison _ .”

 

“ _ Luthor _ .” The boy sighed. “Allison, get up and I won’t tell father.”

 

“I’m not freezing today.”

 

“The rest of us are.” Now, Allison found that piece of knowledge  _ terribly  _ unfair. How could she stay warm when the rest of her family was at the mercy of the arctic? She could not.

 

“ _ Ugh _ , fine.” She’ll be fully emerged from her hot safe haven on the count of three. 

_ One _ . A leg.

 

_ Two _ . The other.

 

_ Three _ . The rest of her immediately burst into gooseflesh at the crisp temperature. 

 

“Come on,” said Luthor, “let’s face the Yeti together.”

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

If the bedrooms were freezing, the table was positively  _ glacial. _

 

Thank God from small miracles, she and Luthor got downstairs before the Yeti. All the others were at the table, as the old man didn’t eat breakfast with the children and Grace. They were slowly picking at their everyday breakfast, oatmeal. The light brown sludge grossly dripping off their spoons as they tried to plug their noses and mask the smell. 

 

“Hey Seven, can you pass the Orange Juice?” Allison stiffened. “I-I mean  _ Vanya _ .  _ Vanya, _ can you please pass the orange juice?” Everyone was frozen, Allison just released an ice age on her own. It was a bittersweet reminder that their names are just garnishings, a last minute accessory made by Reginald Hargreeves. 

 

They were not children, they were machines. 

 

The heavy silence was sharply interrupted by a loud blaring alarm, a shrill reminder of their job.

 

Grace smiled with her too-perfect smile, and said, “Come on children, it’s time to get ready for your mission.”

 

They scattered like mice, with Vanya slinking off towards her violin. Alone.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

They were on the jet when it happened, talking to the Yeti. 

 

“Children, your mission is a standard infiltrate and rescue. A Russian Orphanage has sent out a distress signal, claiming intruders are holding the twelve staff and sixty children hostage. Any questions?”

 

“No sir” chorused around the cabin, each of their faces resigned to their fate of losing a precious Saturday afternoon. 

 

The plane shook suddenly.

 

“I-I-it’s probably just t-tur-turbulence, right Gr-Grace?” Diego was nervous, his stutter becoming slightly more apparent than normal. Grace smiles at him through the screen. “Of course Diego, it’s just turbul-“

 

The plane took another almighty shake, tossing around the inhabitants of the cabin. Red flashing lights blinded the cabin while the constant chanting of “intruder alert” deafened them.

 

“I don’t think that was turbulence…..” Klaus nervously clung to one of the metal poles on the inside of the plane.

 

“Sh-shu-shut up K-Klaus.”

 

A tall man in a black suit and gas mask stepped into the hectic cabin, lackeys flocking at his sides. One of the henchmen punched out the camera.

 

“Well,” said the man, “this will be  _ fun _ .”

 

Gas started gushing out of the vents, and the last thing Allison noticed before losing consciousness, was that the gas was freezing against her bare wrists.

 

——————————————

 

It was not fun. Not at all.

 

When she started to wake up, Allison noticed the almost painful chafing of rope against her wrist, the disgusting taste of adhesive against her lips, and the backache from being secured to a high backing metal chair.

 

She opened her eyes. 

 

They were is a well-lit, large space. Most likely a warehouse. Luthor was gagged, and held up by a series of painful looking chains, that forced him into a suspended star positive. He was awake. 

 

Klaus looked sluggish, as he had a cut on his head that probably needed stitches. He was tied to a chair, much like Allison, with duct tape covering his mouth, with the exception of an IV inserted into his arm, pumping his body full of who knows what.

 

Ben's eyes owlishly blinked at her, his face the only part of him visible through the piece of concrete Allison assumes he’s been secured too. And like the rest of them his face had a piece of tape stuck over his mouth.

 

There was a large, gray covered, rectangular building on the side, facing all of them.

 

Allison couldn’t see Diego. 

 

A camera, like the ones Allison sees men carrying by the news reporters is set up in the middle, staring at all of them and the building. The man dressed in the suit, the Suit Guy, waltzed back in, leisurely taking the time to drop and stomp on a freshly lit cigarette.

 

“I slept like a baby last night, how did you children sleep?” Allison cursed the man, her violate swearing getting blurred together due to the gag. “Oh, right! Uhh, you!” He pointed at one of the lackeys, the one closest to Allison. “Come.” He beckoned the younger man towards him, and started to march towards her chair. 

 

“Oh,” the Suit Guy lightly caressed her cheek, ignoring the death glare that had been thrown his way. “Your s pretty little thing aren’t you?” He looked towards the lackey. “Take off the gag.” It blinding but split second pain, Allison hoped her glare masked the fear in her eyes. 

 

_ What’s he gonna do? _

 

She steeled her nerves. The Suit Guy breathed up in her face, giving her a weird sensation in her eyes and nose. 

 

“How are you, little girl?”

 

“Where is Diego?”

 

“Oh right to the point. You know some guys find that attractive.”

 

“I don’t fucking care you pedo. Where. Is. Diego?” The Suit Guy lit another cigarette, and took a whiff of smoke. “Little girl, I would be careful what you say in TV.”

 

“What?”

 

“Oh yeah,” the man casual waltzed around. “This is being broadcast to the  _ entire  _ American broadcast system. Say Hi to the US!” The color drained from Allison’s face, and it also drained from her siblings faces. Their father could  _ see _ them captive,  _ see  _ their failure.

 

Allison Hargreeves was caught in an avalanche. 

 

The suit guy continues his speech: “And…. here arrives the real star of the show! Ladies and Gentleman of America, you are about to witness the drowning of none other, than your beautiful number two!”

 

Allison started grunting, her words not materializing due to the tape. The Suit Guy saw her, and grinned. He waltzed up to her chair and whispered in her ear, “I will take off your tape, but if i even  _ think  _ you are going to say rumor, I will shoot the rest of your brothers too. That goes against your training for minimal loss situations.” Her lips burned after he ripped off the tape, and to her utter horror, her eyes started leaking. 

 

“Awwww, is the wittle girl cwying? Look at that, America, you so called ‘protectors’ are brought down by a little  _ tape?! _ By God, little old Twos not gonna last a minute, is he?”

 

“S not his name.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said, that's not his name. His-his name is Diego!”

 

The Suit Guy cackled. “Oh God! His- _ his name is Diego _ ! Thats hilarious, really. You guys are just weapons, I hope you understand that. Oh wow, that was great little girl, fabulous. Really made my day. But, open the tank.” One of the lackeys pressed a button on a shiny remote, and the gray building thing opened up, to reveal a water tank the size of a shark aquarium. Diego was banging his fists on the glass, so thick it may be bulletproof. 

 

Allison wasn’t fully aware of what was happening, not enough to realize she was screaming. 

 

The Suit Guy did  _ not _ like her screaming.

 

“Ah, shut her up would you? I’ll be back in four hours, to collect the boys corpse.” Suit Guy sashayed out of the compound, dozens of faceless soldiers marching behind him. 

 

\----------------------------------

 

It was two hours, sixteen minutes, and twelve seconds before Ben and his tentacles managed to shatter their prison. 

 

It was two hours, eighteen minutes, and thirty five seconds before he could free everyone else. 

 

It had been  _ two hours, twenty one minutes, and seventeen seconds that Diego was submerged. _

 

Allison expected a body. She did  _ not  _ expect, however, to pull out her brother and have him take a gasp of air once he was in Luthor's arms.  _ She did not expect him to be  _ **_completely fine_ ** . Physically, at least. Diego was crying, or maybe that was just normal water droplets, souvenirs from his mock execution. 

 

“I-I-I sh-should be d-dead! Am I d-dead?  _ I-I shouldn’t be alive _ .”

That brought a glacier, frozen all around Allison. Freezing her heart with frostbite. 

 

Allison Hargreeves had frozen to absolute zero. 

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Allison woke up, two hours later, and four thirty am, with a major hangover and the urge to never touch wine again. 

 

She tried to quietly slip out of bed, not to wake Patrick. She failed. 

 

“Honey? What….?” He yawned. “What are you doing up?”

 

“I’m going to buy a coat.”

 

“At four thirty in the morning? In June?  _ In California _ ?”

 

“Well, I don’t particularly enjoy being cold.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Should I be sorry about writing this? I wrote this on a bus, so it might suck. But then again, it also took me two weeks, so it also might not.......
> 
> I originally wrote this to be Diego!Centric. Well, I guess that didn't fucking work........
> 
> I know, for all you science nerds, you can't technically get to Absolute Zero, but thats the point, I guess? Allison has gotten impossibly cold (And its a metaphor, like the Yeti. Well, not exactly the Yeti, but I'm gonna shut up now....)
> 
> This is also part of a series, so, yay I guess?!
> 
> I would really like to hear your thoughts on this, so please comment.


End file.
